


Memories

by kickassanakin



Category: Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Father-Son Shenanigans, Gen, Humor, Memory Loss, More Like Brother Shenanigans, SHENANAKINS, some angst too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassanakin/pseuds/kickassanakin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin Skywalker wakes up in the Rebellion medcenter with a lot of questions. <br/>Like, who's that kid who keeps claiming to be his son? <br/>Why doesn't he have any limbs?<br/>Who the kriffing hell is this Darth Vader asshole?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I got this idea in my head and BAM it just wouldn't leave me alone.  
> Please excuse the title I really can't think of a better name lol

Obi-Wan could see everything with perfect clarity.

Darth Vader, revealing the truth of Luke’s parentage.

Luke, failing his training.

The battle of Endor, falling perfectly into the Empire’s deadly trap.

Luke’s death at the hands of the Emperor.

The end of the Rebellion.

All hope for the galaxy lost.

He had to fix it.

But he was _dead_. Had been, for about three years.

He cursed his flimsy Force presence. He could do nothing but watch the galaxy fall to ruin. Yoda could perhaps interfere, but with his age he was hardly any more present than Obi-Wan was – and Yoda was still alive.

The Force screamed at him to _do something_ , but he didn’t know _what_.

He cursed into the void. He’d have thought that becoming a part of the Force would make it clearer for him to understand its vague desires. Clearly that hadn’t been the case.

With the Force yanking at him vaguely, he decided to do what he always had done when faced with a confusing sign. He went to see Yoda.

The green imp was not surprised by the visit from his old friend. “Finally,” Yoda smiled, “a visitor, I have.” He was sitting just outside his small hut.

Obi-Wan did not return the sentiment. “Yoda, we don’t have time for pleasantries. Luke is in grave danger.”

“Should he perish before his time, his sister, can continue the path.” Yoda said this with tired ease. He did not want to think about Luke’s demise, but should it be inevitable…

“You don’t understand.” Obi-Wan said urgently. “Should Luke die, the Rebellion will fall. There will be no time to train Leia. She very well could die with him.”

Yoda stilled. “The Force’s visions, not always – “

“Yoda, I _am_ the Force!” Obi-Wan interrupted. “I don’t see warnings. I see _certainties_. And I saw the end of the galaxy.”

Yoda was quiet for a long time. He sat on his bench, the gimer stick clutched between his tiny claws. He sighed softly. “The will of the Force, it is.”

“ _No!_ ” Obi-Wan yelled. “I will _not_ let this happen!”

Yoda shook his head. “The Force – “

“The _hell_ with the Force!” Obi-Wan shouted, his visage flickering between the wisdom of his elderly body to the emotional pain from his younger self. “I have not lost _everything_ to be in vain!” He shook with emotion. “The things I’ve seen, the horrors that will occur,” he seethed, “like Alderaan, over and over again. I can’t have that happen again!”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Yoda snapped. Obi-Wan, shocked at the elder’s outburst, went quiet. “Perhaps there is a way to change these events.” He closed his eyes. “A difficult task, it would be… but change the future, it could.”

Obi-Wan stood straighter. “What is it?”

“Takes much power, it does.” Yoda looked hesitant. “Could change nothing, as well… Extremely risky, it is.”

Obi-Wan started forward. “We have no other choice.” His resolve was clearly felt through the Force; as hard as durasteel. “Tell me what we have to do.”

* * *

Darth Vader had been sent on a mission to Lothal. The Imperial presence was strong there, but the Emperor seemed more focused with a certain spike in Force presence over the past few rotations. He was not one to question his Master, even  _if_ he thought that one of his Inquisitors might be better fit for the job. He had more pressing matters at hand – finding his son was his utmost priority.

Palpatine had thought he was the one to reveal the existence of his son. He had said it with a quiet, disgusting _glee_. He had thought to surprise his apprentice, perhaps to shake him as he hadn’t been since the death of Anakin Skywalker.

But Vader had known of his son’s existence for much, _much_ longer.

He remembered Boba Fett’s debriefing well.

 _Skywalker_.

He clenched one massive fist in fury.

One day, Palpatine would _pay_ for keeping such a secret.

His TIE fighter screamed through the atmosphere of the grassy planet and landed near a tall stone spire. To the casual eye, there was nothing odd about it. However, to a trained Force user, it was clear the Spire radiated a glowing presence.

With a grunt that didn’t translate through his vocoder and a wave of his arm, the spire began to rise out of the ground.

He was pleased (as pleased as he could be, at least) that he had not had any commanding officers assigned along with him on the mission. His Master did not trust him, but when matters of the Force were concerned, it was more efficient for Vader to work alone.

Plus, he hated when the officers stared at him. The Force was as natural as breathing. It wasn’t _his_ fault they were blind to its power.

He shook such distracting thoughts away as the giant rock finished its upwards spiral. A cave yawned into its recesses. Something about it was… familiar.

He felt something beckoning him towards the cavern. It wasn’t hard to resist the call – after all, his Master _had_ told him to inspect the area for stray Jedi. And an old Jedi temple was just the place for one of those sniveling cowards to hide.

With his cape flaring out aggressively behind him, he strode into the cave.

It was dark, but that wasn’t a problem for him. His mask’s abilities had more than overcompensated for his damaged retinas – even _if_ he saw the world through an annoyingly red tint.

His suit did not alert him to any nearby life forms, but something pulled him further into the cavern. He did not fear old Jedi temples. No longer did they hold any power over him. And yet…

The Light pulled at him. It tugged at his scarred heart, begging to be let in. He pushed such feelings away and moved deeper in.

He stopped at the mouth of what appeared to be a meditation chamber. He could feel the leftover imprints thousands of Jedi had left within. They swirled around him, stronger than before.

“Anakin,” a young Padawan called to him, “Why are you here?” His wide red eyes – a common trait of the Chiss such as himself – held an infinite sadness.

Vader did not listen to such ghosts. Plenty haunted him on a normal basis; a few more haunting Jedi wouldn’t bother him much.

He strode to the center of the chamber. The ground was etched with intricate designs of the ancient past. With a great sigh (that did not translate through his vocoder), he sat in the center of the room. There was something else that pulled at him, something other than the insufferable Light that yanked at his tattered heartstrings. He closed his eyes and focused on the Force swirling inside him.

“Anakin.” Came Obi-Wan’s ghostly voice. Vader’s eyes flashed open – the only sign of surprise he gave. “Anakin, listen to us.”

“Anakin is dead, old man.” Vader hissed, his vocoder translating the harsh malice into a smooth distaste. “You killed him. Remember?”

Obi-Wan’s disembodied voice gave a soft sigh. “Yes, and you killed me. _Remember_?”

It rankled Vader to be able to hear the snark in his old Master’s voice.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyhow,” Obi-Wan continued, “because I’m here for something more important than bickering about who killed who.”

“Oh?” Vader asked, only barely amused. “And what is that?”

Just like that, Obi-Wan appeared.

He was… well, to Vader it looked purple. But he supposed without the red tint in his vision, the old man would be blue. It was like looking into a holo – he was transparent, but still _there_.

“You’ve seen better days.” Vader commented drily.

“Maybe, but even in death I’ve managed to look better than you.” Obi-Wan snapped back. He said nothing else as he sat in front of Vader, in a position mirroring the Sith Lord’s.

There was a tense silence. The Force seethed around the two, Dark meeting Light and clashing into a battle of wills.

“What are you trying to do?” Vader asked, a tight and painful smirk hidden on his scarred flesh.

“You can’t hurt me.”

The ghost shook his head sadly. “I have no desire to hurt you, Anakin.”

“Ironic.” Vader said drily. Kenobi was the reason he took every _excruciating_ breath.

The smooth rock beneath him began to shudder. Vader looked up sharply. Kenobi’s pale face looked sickeningly piteous.

“I have no desire to hurt you,” the ghost murmured, “but I must do what I must.”

“How can your power affect the physical world like this?” Vader hissed as he stood. “You shouldn’t be able to do this.”

Kenobi smiled sadly. “I told you, old friend. I have become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”

“So you think you can kill me _now_?” Vader sneered.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, I never could kill you.” He closed his eyes, and the rumbling became a roar. Vader swore he could feel another presence with them, but it was faint… powerful, but faint. Whoever they were, they were too far away for Vader to pick out their exact Force signature. All he could tell was that their presence was disgustingly _light_.

“You can’t keep me here, you know.” Vader stormed off to the exit.

Except something was holding him back.

“In fact, I _can_.” Obi-Wan’s voice was grim. “I truly am sorry, Anakin.”

The cave started to crumble. Vader was trapped.

For some reason, Obi-Wan was still there. “What are you doing?” Vader snarled, “I thought gloating was not in the Jedi Code.”

“Does it look like I’m gloating?” Obi-Wan asked with a sigh. “No, I’m not.” He looked to Vader then – and even through the deep red tint of his visor, and the fury that ripped through his broken body, he could see the deep sadness in his old Master’s eyes. “I thought you’d appreciate it if someone were to be with you when this is over.” He let out a solemn chuckle. “We won’t see each other again for a long time, hopefully.”

Rocks were slamming into the ground. The entire cavern shook madly. Support pillars cracked and gave out under the pressure of the ceiling caving in.

Vader pulled in on himself and tried to gather the Force around him. He could create a kind of shield to protect himself from the brunt of the cavern’s damage.

But the Force wouldn’t listen to him. Oh, it swirled around him and choked up his throat and forced him to the ground, _yes_ , but it would not protect him.

“This is a Jedi temple.” Obi-Wan supplied the explanation calmly, as if the world _wasn’t_ collapsing around their heads. “The Light Side runs powerfully here, and I’m a part of that power.” He fixed Vader with a determined gaze. “I _am_ the Force, Anakin. You can’t use it if I don’t want you to.”

Something deep inside of Vader cracked upon hearing that. The barely-restrained calm demeanor he kept up for appearances sake had been broken, and his wild rage began to seep out.

Too bad he couldn’t use the Force. He would have exploded the entire mountain _outwards_ and away from himself.

He ignited his lightsaber and held it above him. Perhaps he could cleave the larger projectiles away from him.

No, that wasn’t going to work. Not for every single threat bearing down on him, not all at once.

The cave groaned loudly, and then collapsed.

Vader knew the sensation of being crushed, and then no more.

* * *

_Luke!_ Obi-Wan’s voice, while faint, was insistent.

Luke Skywalker, poster boy for the Rebellion, was eating a late lunch with Leia on the giant ship that served as the Rebellion’s temporary base of operations. Since Hoth, the Rebellion hadn’t found a suitable planet for a permanent base. Obi-Wan’s sudden call made him choke on the food he was scarfing down.

Leia paused, in the middle of a story of one of the earlier Rebellion missions she had worked on. She had had to make her assistance seem as unwilling as possible, so the Empire wouldn’t catch on to her loyalties.

In the end, it hadn’t mattered much what the Empire knew of Alderaan’s loyalties.

“Luke, are you okay?” Leia asked, her eyes – now always with a hint of sadness in them – showing a deep concern.

Luke nodded as he coughed into his closed mechanical fist. He swallowed down the food and cleared his throat carefully. “I, uh, gotta go,” He said quickly as he stood up, “Duty calls and all that.”

Leia looked up at him oddly. “Do you want someone to come with you?” Her head tilted, a sign of worry.

Luke blushed and shook his head. “No, I’m fine! It’s Jedi stuff. Complicated.” He made a few more broken excuses as he rushed out of the cafeteria and into his quarters.

“Ben, what’s wrong?” He asked aloud.

 _Luke, you need to go to Lothal. Let the Force guide you. Someone is in dire need of your help_. Ben said quickly.

“Who is it?” Luke jumped up and prepared his flight suit immediately. “Someone I know?”

Ben’s presence felt… amused, in a way. _Perhaps you’ve met before_ , he said, _but try to keep your previous experiences out of this. You can find allies even in the worst of enemies_.

An odd thing to say for a rescue mission, Luke thought quietly as he hurried out of his room and to the flight hangar. He stopped by the charging station and grabbed Artoo, who was conveniently near his X-wing – and a small transport ship. He sighed, and directed Artoo towards the transport. He’d most likely be taking his mysterious friend in need back to the Rebellion, and his X-wing only held one person. He informed a nearby deck hand to let Leia know where he was and what he might need for backup. He didn’t have time to arrange a full medical transport, instead, he’d head out first, check out the situation, and call for assistance if it became clear he couldn’t handle the situation on his own.

He’d apologize to General Dodona for the ship-napping when he got back.

He flew out of the hangar and made the jump to light speed almost immediately out of the hangar. The bright side of not having an on-planet base was that he didn’t have to go through the atmosphere before he could make the jump to hyperspace.

While in the mottled blue-purple-green spaceway, he had time to _think_. Who was in need of help? Ben had sounded oddly guilty when he spoke to Luke. Why would be have any reason for that? What did he mean by that thing about allies and enemies – was it literal? Would he be helping an Imperial?

He wondered what Yoda thought about this. He hadn’t seen the little green Jedi since his failed accident on Bespin – after all, it had only been a month since the encounter. He was still getting used to his mechanical hand. If Yoda were around, would he tell Luke to save a potential Imperial? He shook his head and sighed.

He _supposed_ it wouldn’t be that much of a problem. Imperials _had_ turned on the Empire and worked for the Rebellion before. He wondered if he had met this particular Imp before. The Force’s answer was just out of reach, the taste in his mind of a rich joke with a hard-hitting punchline.

That, if nothing else, worried him a little bit.

* * *

Lothal was… oddly charming.

Well, it clearly had been before the Empire arrived to it. Obviously the planet had been very agricultural, with vast open grasslands and fertile soil. Luke, even with his limited training, could feel the Force pulse from deep within the planet’s core.

The Empire seemed to have taken over the small agricultural planet, however. There were Stormtroopers outfitted at every single town he flew by. He could practically feel the Empire’s pressure pushing against Lothal’s calm, quiet energy.

He remembered Ben’s instructions and closed his eyes. The Force would lead him where he anted to go – he _hoped_.

Since Yavin, he hadn’t practiced with the Force all that much. He could levitate random objects when he focused very hard, but meditation was _hard_. He still wasn’t very good with a lightsaber, even if the feel of the blade was completely natural to him. Innate skill only took him so far – he still needed to practice in order to be a formidable opponent.

He wished Ben had been able to teach him more. The Force was like a mysterious part of him he had never known before, only recently discovered, and he wanted to know _more_. He imagined that his power was just barely out of reach, that somehow he was disconnected from that odd living Force.

It frustrated him to no end.

Still, he had to _try_. He breathed in deep and reached out with that weird, glowing part of himself that he didn’t quite understand. He could see the planet of Lothal beneath him, but it wasn’t like before, when he glanced out at the planet from his ship. No, this was more… personal.

In his mind’s eye, the planet was a sphere of soft orange light. Smattered about the giant sphere were groups of smaller lights, all their own different colors.

The though occurred to Luke that he could have been imagining the entire thing. Who knew if this is how the Force worked? Certainly not himself, that’s for sure.

Still, he felt an odd _yank_ in a specific direction. His eyes opened involuntarily at the strength behind the pull. Even with his concentration broken, the tug at his senses continued. Whoever needed his help, they needed it _bad_.

Luke sped the transport up and zoomed past a few odd-looking stone hills. He had long since passed any towns or villages, and was clearly flying through what passed for Lothal’s wilderness. He felt a sharp spike of pain through the Force, and angled his ship towards the vibrant distress signal.

It was only a few more minutes before he came to the source of the signal.

One of the strange stone hill-spires had completely collapsed on itself. It was one of the biggest hills he had seen so far on the little planet, now the biggest pile of rubble. There was something just at the corners of his senses, like a needle’s tip poking at the edge of his consciousness, like a bubble waiting to be popped.

And in some way, it was familiar.

Luke quickly parked his transporter as close to the ruins as he thought possible and hopped out. Artoo eagerly came with him, to which he didn’t protest. He had a feeling he would appreciate the stubby droid’s help.

With one last look at the transporter, he grimaced and reached out once more with the Force.

He had a feeling everything was about to change.

* * *

There was plenty of rubble to push away. Luke was able to connect with the Force just enough to shove off a couple of layers of rock, but he was still doing most of the work with his bare hands. Artoo helped where he could, usually lugging away larger stones from the area.

Luke did not think to break even once as he tore through the stone. If he wasted even one moment, this place could become someone’s grave – and no matter what he had done in the past, he would not let someone die if he had a choice against it.

He shook away thoughts of the Death Star’s explosion, of all those _voices_ screaming in his head, and pushed another couple of rocks away.

He worked hard, and sometimes it felt as if he wasn’t alone. There was something else there with him, but not physically. He could feel whatever it was _helping_ him, in a way. It was as if the strange energy around him gave him more focus, more drive to save this life. The rocks moved faster. He began to move rocks with the Force as he shoved away smaller stones with his body. This kind of multitasking… he had never really considered it before. It simply _happened_.

The Force was strong here, he thought.

Then, after a long time of digging, of pushing away stones, of rolling rubble out of his path, he could hear it.

A harsh, mechanical _wheeze_.

Luke froze. He recognized that sound.

Even as strange, almost _pathetic_ breaths, the sound was too familiar not to immediately identify.

Obi-Wan has asked him to save _Darth Vader_?!

Luke pulled one last rock out of the way, and was forced to come face to face with his father.

Most of his mask was crushed. It didn’t crack, but it was warped enough that it was clear that whatever breathing apparatus he had in there wouldn’t last much longer. The mask, already a horribly gruesome sight beforehand, was even more disfigured than before. Luke felt sick.

Vader’s suit was in various states of disrepair. His left arm was completely smashed; exposed wires sizzled and sparked all along his forearm and up into his chest plate. His right arm wasn’t looking much better, and his legs…

Well, Luke had his work cut out for him. He swallowed heavily.

“V-Vader?” He asked tentatively.

No response.

“A-Artoo!” Luke yelled. “I need your help.” He gestured to the behemoth in front of him. “Um, can you help me get him back to the ship? I need to… find a way to get him in the bacta tank.”

Artoo beeped uncomfortably, but rolled into the ship. He returned moments later with an anti-grav stretcher. Luke gave the droid a grateful nod and closed his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t move the injured until they’d had basic medical attention, but from the looks of it, Vader wouldn’t last much longer without some kind of additional aid. Luke but his lip and wrapped his arms around the Sith Lord. He lifted up the large man with a loud huff and placed him on the stretcher. He then activated the anti-grav controls and was pleased (as pleased as he could be, at least) that the stretcher lifted easily. He quickly made his way into the ship, and was immediately presented with a new problem.

How in the blazes was he supposed to get Vader into a bacta tank if he was mostly made of metal?

He groaned and rushed into the ship’s cockpit. The comm system was there. He quickly keyed in the code to Leia’s personal comm and waited impatiently.

She finally agreed to the comm request, after what felt like _hours_.

It had really been seconds, but Luke was feeling a great sense of urgency at the moment.

“Leia, no time for questions. I need a full medical transport here immediately, along with a mechanic and a bunch of prosthetic limbs.” His tone was serious enough that Leia _almost_ didn’t hesitate.

Almost.

“Luke!” Leia nearly yelled. “You’re covered in blood!” Leia asked, worry sharp in her voice. “What’s wrong?” She had a horrible feeling that she already knew the answer.

“There’s someone who needs immediate medical attention that I can’t give, that’s what’s wrong!” Luke said hotly. “I don’t know how to get him into a bacta tank, or if I even _can_.” He fixed Leia with a stern gaze. “Please, just send a medical frigate over. Preferably one with more neutral-siding medical professionals. I’ve already sent the coordinates.” He gave her a pleading look, and with a sigh she nodded.

“You’ve got one hour until _we_ get there.” She fixed him with an annoyed stare. “You’d better have a good explanation for this.”

“I hope so.” He said quietly. Leia ended the transmission and left Luke alone to his thoughts.

He couldn’t let Vader die. Not like this. He gritted his teeth and sighed. Vader was his _father_.

Oddly, he reached out to that vague Force connection he knew he had with Vader… but couldn’t find it.

Even with his limited knowledge of the Force, he could feel Vader’s presence from miles away. Perhaps that was why he had originally been so surprised upon discovering Vader on this planet – he hadn’t been able to feel the cold darkness that enveloped his father like a freezing black hole.

In fact, his Force presence – from what Luke could tell, at least – was extremely muted. Almost as if Vader wasn’t really _there_.

The weak sound of his strained breathing begged to differ, however.

The young Jedi shook his head and stood up. He needed to make sure he did whatever he could before the medical transport arrived.

He walked into the tiny medbay to stare at the galaxy’s most feared man.

He looked… _small_. The mask was still deformed, and gave off a little spark every few minutes. His limbs were a tangled mess of wires, bone and blood. Luke closed his eyes and frowned. How could his father, the great Jedi Knight, become _this_?

Vader groaned softly. Luke’s eyes opened and he peered curiously at the man before him.

Was it his imagination… or was the blood flow slowing?

Luke wasn’t stupid; he had put as many rags around the open wounds as possible in order to stop the bleeding. He didn’t know much more than that, though. On Tatooine, an injury as dire as this would simply end in death. During his time in the Rebellion, he hadn’t had much time to learn medical aid. Yoda had only seemed interested in teaching him to utilize his Force powers, and even then, he had only spent a day or so with the old Master. All he knew was to stop the bleeding.

But he didn’t think putting a bunch of rags around Vader would have stopped the flow like it seemed to have done.

Luke frowned and reached out with the Force.

 _Ah_ , that was it.

Somehow… he was being healed through the Force. Luke didn’t know if this was Vader’s own doing, or that strange presence he had felt at the ruins, but all that mattered was that Vader was going to survive at least until the medical aid arrived.

Vader’s Force presence remained infuriatingly faint. Even thought Luke was standing right next to the man – right next to his own _father_ – he couldn’t feel anything except for a quiet, confused hum.

Quiet and confused were _not_ two words Luke would associate with Darth Vader, so he wasn’t even sure if what he was feeling really came from the man before him.

Luke eyed his father’s prone body with interest. Even if he couldn’t understand how, exactly, his father was being healed, he wanted to _know_. For once in his life, he realized that the power to heal might be more important than the power to destroy.

He settled himself down on the small seat next to the cot Vader laid on, and focused on the Force.

He had an hour to get this down, at least.

* * *

“Luke!” Leia’s voice from outside the transport shook him out of the meditative state he had somehow found himself in.

He stood up, immediately alert, and spared a quick look at Vader before he ran out of the medbay.

Vader was looking… not much better. The bleeding had stopped, at least, but the state of his armor and prosthetics were beyond Force healing. They looked old and rusted, and for a moment Luke was worried about Vader getting an infection.

He realized how horribly odd that thought sounded just as he opened the hatch to the transport and found himself with his arms full of Leia. A small squadron of medical officers ran past him and into the medbay.

“We got here as soon as we could,” Leia said urgently, “But we’re not sure what we’re here to deal with, so we might have to bring him back to the base to treat him properly.”

Luke swallowed heavily. “Um.”

“ _Um_?” Leia asked, suddenly suspicious. “ _Um_ what?”

“Listen,” Luke took a step back, his hands held out placatingly, “I don’t really think taking him back is going to help – “

“ _Kriffing_ hell, you’ve got to be joking, right?” The first medical officer poked his head out of the medbay. “You’re serious? You want to _save_ his life?”

Luke started forward with a stern expression on his face. “If we let him die, or kill him while he cannot defend himself, we are no better than the Empire.”

Soren let out a groan. “You’re right. Oh boy, what am I gonna tell the others at base?” He laughed uncomfortably, the latter statement more to himself than to Luke, and slipped back into the medbay.

Leia groaned, clearly frustrated. “Who are you _talking_ about?”

Luke bit his lip and shrugged. “Just someone I picked up in the ruins over there.” He gestured with his flesh hand to where the pile of rubble lay.

Leia shook her head and brushed past him into the medbay. Luke didn’t need to see the princess to know she had gasped in shock upon seeing Darth Vader in the bay. Leia’s Force presence was always particularly strong. He quickly moved so as to confront her angry glare.

“Leia – “

“Shove it.” She growled, then pinched her brow. “Listen, I – I know that we _should_ save him. I just…” She shook her head and gave the ceiling an exasperated, annoyed sigh. “This was not something I needed today.”

Luke nodded sheepishly. “I know the feeling.”

She gritted her teeth and walked out of the medbay. “I’m sure you do.” She said harshly.

Luke flinched at the princess’s voice. He knew she wasn’t mad at him, not really, but her anger was still something he feared. She had a _temper_.

“Uh, Commander Skywalker?” One of the medical officers – Luke dimly remembered, his name was Soren – gently asked him. “Sir, he’s waking up.”

Luke’s attention was immediately diverted to the form of Darth Vader. The breathing, while still weak, was more uneven than before.

“Where… where am I?” Vader’s voice was broken, distorted by the warped vocoder. “What happened?”

Luke cleared his throat, and nodded respectfully to the medical officers. “Darth Vader, you are in the medical care of the Rebellion.” He said sternly. He couldn’t address Vader as his father, not in front of all of these people. He just hoped his father would respect that much, at least.

Oh, who was he kidding? His father has chopped his hand off like it was an annoying fly. With a grimace, he waited for Vader to reveal the dark secret.

“… Darth Vader?” Vader’s voice crackled. “Who’s tha –“ the vocoder made a shrill beep, then fell silent. Vader struggled forward, as if suddenly aware of his predicament.

Luke could hear his father’s strangled cry in his mind, although he wasn’t sure if that was something he was supposed to hear.

“Sir, you need to lie back.” Soren stepped in again. “We need to get you into a bacta tank. A mechanic can work on your vocoder while you rest.”

Vader pushed forward once more, then sat back with what Luke _thought_ could have been a mental sigh.

“You’re no longer needed here, Commander Skywalker.” Soren nodded to him. Luke nodded in return, he was ready to leave –

Vader’s Force presence revealed itself, and Luke thought he had gone blind.

Before, it had been frozen and black, like a huge black hole of Darkness. But now, it was brighter than both of Tatooine’s suns. It burned hotter than lava, and Luke couldn’t bear to look directly at his own father.

“ _Skywalker?_ ” He _felt_ the word more than he heard it. It came with the bright, burning presence that was Vader. It was a deep voice, yet so unlike that chilling baritone the vocoder gave him. It rumbled with confusion.

Luke felt weak. He stumbled and had to catch himself on the nearby durasteel wall in order to balance himself.

“Sir?” The medical officer asked, concerned. “Are you all right?”

Luke managed to peek back at his father – Vader’s helmet was tilted directly at him. He could feel Vader’s gaze, but it didn’t feel as horrifyingly chilling as it had been in the past.

Luke was just as confused as Vader seemed to be. He shook his head and shrugged. “Been a long day.” He said quickly. “I just need to rest. Make sure he’s stable… I fear that Leia might be right, and we’ll have to take him back with us.”

“That’s not much of a surprise.” Soren commented drily. “I’m ordering him taken back right _now_. If you’re all right, I’d like you to get the ship ready to go.”

Luke spared one last quick glance at Vader before he left.

He couldn’t forget the sound of his father’s voice.

* * *

Not long after Vader was stabilized, he had been placed in the bacta tank. It had taken more than an hour for the medical officers and mechanical engineer to cut away the majority of Vader’s armor, and to remove his malfunctioning prosthetics.

“He’s more machine than man,” Soren later commented to Luke, while the young Jedi steered the ship through hyperspace, “It’s a surprise we were able to get him out of that suit.” He shook his head and sighed. “Did you know that his mask is kept in place with _needles_? That really kriffed his face up.”

Luke winced. “Was there any part of him not too damaged?”

Soren shook his head. “No, not really.” He let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “What wasn’t hurt in the collapse was already damaged long before that.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked, tilting his head.

“The man’s got severe burns all over his body. We had to keep his respirator on to keep him breathing, his lungs are so farked up.” He sighed. “Damage like that should have been taken care of decades ago. Whoever put him in that suit really didn’t care about him healing properly.”

Luke felt a cold chill down his spine. “That’s awful.”

The medical officer nodded his agreement. “If I had been put in that suit, I’d be angry all the time too.”

The ship quietly rumbled as Luke brought it out of hyperspace. The Rebellion’s large temporary base revealed itself immediately. Two X-wings flew forward and hailed the comm system.

“Luke, that you?” Wedge’s voice called out.

“Yeah, Wedge.” Luke smiled in relief. Wedge wouldn’t ask too many questions. “We need to dock and have immediate access to the medical center. Can you clear out one docking bay? This is… highly classified.”

There was a crackle from the comm and a period of awkward silence before Wedge’s voice came back. “Uh, yeah, done. What happened, Luke?”

Luke blushed. “I’ll tell you later, Wedge.”

“All right.” He sounded unsure, but his voice hardened to his Rebellion’s official accent. “You’ve got no one in docking bay three. I’ll send medical personnel as soon as I can.” There was a short pause. “Mothma will want to speak to you, too.” 

“Thanks, Wedge.” Luke said tiredly. “I really appreciate it.”

He terminated the call and steered the ship towards docking bay three.

Soren cleared his throat. “You know, I think you should speak to Leia.”

Luke looked back to the medical officer. He swallowed guiltily. “About what?”

“She clearly doesn’t want Vader to live.” Soren rolled his eyes. “I can’t say I blame her. But she’s a General, and you’re a Commander.”

Luke shook his head. “No. This is a Jedi affair.”

“Okay, but Vader’s also the Emperor’s right-hand man. He has war crimes to answer for.”

Luke closed his eyes and wished he knew how to better let go of his frustration. “Vader’s life is my responsibility.” He said slowly. “He’s my –“ He caught himself and sighed. “He’s _my_ problem. I can talk to Leia when we land. I have a feeling this is a better conversation to have face to face.” Not for the first time during the flight, he wished that Leia had stayed on his ship and not gone back to the medical transport for the ride back.

The ship landed in the docking bay with little fanfare, which was to be expected considering the docking bay was completely empty.

“Commander, is it safe to unload?” Soren asked. Luke nodded.

“Make it quick. We can only keep people out of here for so long.” Luke grimaced as he made sure the ship was safely docked. “I’ll try and see if I can’t clear the way to the medbay so we can have some privacy. If there’s anyone that needs to know the situation, comm them now.”

He got out of the pilot’s seat and moved to the room that housed Vader.

He hadn’t seen his father since he left the ship’s medbay to get into hyperspace. The last he had seen of him, Vader had still been covered in that broken armor with sparking prosthetics and rough breathing.

Even with Soren’s explanation of his father’s medical state, he was still shocked upon seeing Darth Vader suspended in the bacta tank.

His armor was gone, leaving in its place horribly pale, scarred skin. He had a disfiguring scar that ran across his skull, and even looking at it made Luke wince. How had no one healed that already?

His father’s body was mottled a pale blue and black. His limbs were – _gone_. Luke had known Vader had many prosthetic limbs, but he hadn’t realized that every single one of them were prosthetic. He shuddered and clutched his own metal hand tighter.

Vader’s unconscious body stirred uncomfortably, as if he knew he was being watched. A frown grew on his scarred face, and Luke forced himself to turn away. He had to make sure everyone on board the Rebel base was up to speed with the situation. He left his father behind and couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of pity for the broken man.

What had happened to Vader to cause him such injury? And why had no one ever bothered to make sure he actually _healed_?

The medbay door slid shut behind him, and he quietly made his way to the ship exit.

He had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Anakin felt absolutely  _awful_ . He hadn’t felt pain like this since his first few weeks as Obi-Wan’s padawan, building up muscle and learning the various lightsaber forms. That pain had been rewarding, however – it was a reminder of how much he’d grown, of his strength and ability to learn.

This pain, however, was completely pointless. It was a similar pain as he felt when he lost his hand, but multiplied and spread all throughout his body. What in the seven hells had _happened_ to him?

He blinked open one eye and immediately regretted it. The brightness of the room he was in _burned_. He shut his eye quickly and groaned – but only a raspy wheeze made its way out between his lips. It was then he noticed that his breathing was horribly shallow and loud. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. Once he gave it attention, however, it seemed to be the only thing he could think about. When had he become so sickly? He certainly didn’t remember being this kriffed up beforehand.

Speaking of beforehand… he furrowed his brow (or tried to, for some reason that hurt him _much_ more than it should have) and tried to remember the last thing that had happened to him.

Everything was coming up blank. Oh, he knew _who_ he was, he remembered his life, the war he was fighting in, his old Master and apprentice, but for some reason more recent events were completely _gone_. It was as if he had gone to bed one night and woken up here, wherever _here_ was. He tried to reach out with the Force, to see if he could garner any answers from that, but he simply _couldn’t_. With a sense of dawning horror, he realized that someone had given him Force-suppressing drugs. He had heard about such drugs from other Jedi, but had never suffered from them firsthand.

He hoped that whoever had given them to him wasn’t too sadistic, although the odd numb sensation from his limbs quickly quelled that hope. He really, really hoped that the reason he couldn’t feel his arms or legs was because of more numbing drugs, but he had a feeling the real answer was much more awful.

“Sir?” A cautious voice interrupted his confused internal dialogue. Anakin grunted, this time sounding more like a cough, and tilted his head towards the sound of the voice. He didn’t want to try opening his eyes again, even if he was deeply curious to know who was talking to him. He braced himself, hoping that interrogation wouldn’t be too awful.

“Yeah?” He responded, his voice a crackling, rough whisper. It burned his throat to speak, something that startled him horribly upon discovery. He resolved himself to stay as quiet as possible, although that was a difficult task for himself.

“Uh, well, it’s a little difficult to hear you without your vocoder,” the voice said, “but I’ll only be asking you yes or no questions, so you can nod or shake your head to answer what I want to know. Sound good?”

Anakin tried to swallow – and didn’t think about what it meant when he physically _couldn’t_ – and nodded.

“Great. Now, I’m sure you know what a sorry state of affairs your body is in.” The voice, while oddly flippant, was still careful. “Whoever treated you after you suffered these injuries was woefully inept at their job.”

Anakin felt his heart race pick up. The person who was talking to him hadn’t caused all this damage? Then who had?

He reminded himself to remain suspicious. The speaker could just as easily lie.

He nodded carefully.

“Well, Lord Vader,” the title was said with a cautious sneer, although Anakin had no idea who or what ‘Lord Vader’ was, “I’m not in the practice of torturing my patients, of which you are so lucky to be one of. That suit you were in was causing more harm than good, as I’m sure you were aware of.”

Anakin once again nodded, although he didn’t _really_ understand what this person was talking about. He figured that this long-winded explanation was more to hear his own voice, rather than to really ask any questions.

“I can’t currently fix your breathing problem, as that requires more advanced and expensive technology than what we have on board here, and _certainly_ would not be used for a prisoner of war such as yourself.” Anakin flinched at the speaker’s words; he _was_ on a Seppie vessel. Kriffing fantastic.

“I can, however, update your prosthetics. These look like they haven’t been upgraded in _decades_. They were even rusting a bit at the junctions.” The speaker said again, disgust clear in his voice. “Did you _ever_ clean out your mechanics?”

Anakin nodded. He maintained his mechanical arm _extremely_ well. He was surprised to learn that apparently he _had_ lost all of his limbs, and was more focused on feeling concern for that than worry over not really remembering _how_ or _when_ he had lost them all.

“It certainly doesn’t show.” The speaker scoffed. “Still, I can fix you up with new arms and legs, since your old ones got mangled in your accident. I can also fix your vocoder so you can speak more easily. Do you think you could tell me what happened once we get that working again?”

Anakin paused, and then shook his head. He had been hoping someone _else_ could tell him what was going on. The voice sighed.

“All right, is that because you’re the Emperor’s right hand man on secret Imperial business, or because you can’t remember?”

Anakin blinked his eyes open in shock and spluttered out in confusion. _Emperor_? While the light still burned, he tried to direct his eyes to the speaker, hoping beyond all hopes that whoever was talking to him would be able to recognize the galaxy-wide expression of _I don’t know what the kriff you’re talking about_.

The speaker, a short medical officer with clean white robes and neatly-trimmed black hair, frowned deeply. “All right, I’m taking that as you don’t remember.” He scribbled something into a small datapad that Anakin hadn’t noticed before. How could he, with his eyes closed and his connection to the Force cut off?

“Great. Let me ask one more question, although I have a feeling I already know the karking answer.” He sighed. “Are you, Darth Vader, aware of the countless atrocities you’ve committed in the name of the Empire? Anything you say – I guess, in this case, gesture – can be held against you in a court of law.”

Anakin frowned. Atrocities? What atrocities? Sure, the Separatists had no real love for the Jedi, but they had never considered the Order _atrocious_. And why was he being called Darth Vader? He shook his head in confusion.

“Okay, well, pleading not guilty in a case such as yours is a really stupid move, but it’s not really my place to say.” The medical officer shrugged. “You’re under arrest by the Rebellion for charges of countless war crimes, some of which being the destruction of Alderaan and the destruction of the Jedi Order, not to mention the thousands of innocents you’ve killed in your spare time,” the officer added under his breath, “So for the time being, you will be administered Force-suppressing drugs to keep you from going on a Sithly rampage. You will probably also get a defendant, although I’m not really sure what they could do for you in your scenario.”

Anakin’s head was spinning. All the information he had been given sounded like it had come straight out of a horrible nightmare. _Destruction_ of the Jedi Order and Alderaan? Last time he had checked, both were doing just fine. He struggled to say something, _anything_ , but all he could manage was a faint raspy whine.

The medical officer sighed. “I’ll work on fixing your vocoder back up so you can defend yourself. Or threaten us. Either way it’s probably pointless to do, but you still deserve the right to speak, I guess.”

The door to the medbay _wooshed_ open, and Anakin almost instinctively _knew_ who had just come in. Even with his Force senses dulled, he could feel the searing presence of the young boy at the entrance to the room. Surely if he hadn’t been given those drugs, he would have been able to feel the boy throughout the entire facility they were on. Hell, he would be able to feel the boy from across a planet. Did he know how to shield at all? Had anyone taught him?

He couldn’t help but flinch at the sensation of the boy moving closer. He groaned softly, the action straining his already injured vocal chords, and turned his head away.

“Vader.” The boy’s voice was tight.

“He can’t speak very well right now,” the medical officer informed him, “There is extensive damage to his lungs and vocal chords. I can fix some of the damage done, but more extensive procedures should wait until we know what we’re doing with him.”

The boy nodded. “Okay. I’d like to speak with him privately now, if you don’t mind.”

Anakin thought that he sounded very tired. A dull twinge in his gut upon that thought made him feel more than a little uncomfortable. Sure, the boy’s Force presence was powerful, and in some strange way familiar, but he couldn’t exactly _do_ anything about that.

Still, he felt an odd ache in his chest upon looking into the boy’s bright blue eyes. So familiar…

The officer nodded and left the room. The boy placed his arms across his chest, and Anakin noticed a reflection from the above lights against a sharp chrome hand. Anakin felt very sad upon seeing that metal hand.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Anakin. “You… _changed_.”

Anakin, who was pretty much incapable of speech at the moment, simply shrugged.

“This is nothing like the Death Star or Bespin.” His metal arm clenched at the mention of Bespin. Anakin didn’t want to think about what that implied. “Are you even Darth Vader?” He shook his head and chuckled darkly. “No, no, it couldn’t _not_ be you. Ben told me to trust in the Force, and…” He sighed, moved his hands from across his chest to behind his back, and looked Anakin directly in the eyes. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, _father_ ,” he hissed the word quietly, and Anakin immediately lost focus on what the boy was saying.

_Father?_

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Even though it _hurt_ , and it felt like the inside of his throat was on fire, he had to laugh. If he could have cried (which, oddly enough, he realized he _couldn’t_ ), he would have been crying with laughter.

The boy looked at him with one brow raised. Anakin shook his head as the laughter died down.

He gritted his teeth in preparation for words he _knew_ would hurt. “I’m twenty-two, do I _look_ like I have kids your age?” He hoarsely whispered. “And my name isn’t _Darth Vader_.” He coughed, and his lungs were on fire again, and he couldn’t speak any more.

The boy blinked, confused, until a realization that Anakin couldn’t understand dawned upon the kid’s face.

“Oh no,” he shook his head, eyes wide in surprise, “Leia’s going to be _so_ mad.”

* * *

“ _What?!_ ” Leia’s voice was easily heard throughout the usually quiet corridor.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!” Luke whined. “Officer Soren confirmed it, Vader’s got _really bad_ memory loss.”

“Of _course_ he does.” Leia snorted. Luke felt an angry chill shiver down his spine. “How horribly _convenient_ for him.”

“I don’t like it just as much as you do – “ Another angry snort from Leia. Fine, if that’s how she was going to be. “ – but that’s just how things are.” He shook his head. “Mon Mothma wants to have a meeting in about an hour. She wants to know everyone’s opinion on dealing with Vader now that he’s…” Luke shrugged. “The way he is.”

“I know what _I_ think.” Leia growled. “If there’s any way to get his memory back, we get it back, we grill him for information, and then kill him.”

Luke felt a jolt of fear run through his body. “Leia, we _can’t_ do that.”

The princess whirled on him, all anger focused on the young Jedi. “ _Why not?_ ” She hissed. “He’s done worse to us. To the entire _galaxy_. This would be a _mercy_ on him.”

Luke swallowed heavily and took a deep breath, trying to stand tall in the face of her fury. “This is not the way of the Jedi.” He put on careful hand on her shoulder. “We must trust in the Force for answers. The Force brought me to Vader. Why would it do that just to see him die?”

Leia narrowed her eyes and pulled away. “Perhaps the Force just wants this ordeal over with.”

Luke shook his head. “Not in the way you want. If that were so, the Force would have guided me to the Emperor, not Vader.”

Leia glared at him for a moment longer, rage seething throughout her entire tiny body. Eventually, she turned away and sighed. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Luke reached one hand out towards his friend. “Leia…”

“I _said_ I’ll see you at the meeting.” Leia said coldly. “Please, I need some time alone.”

Luke bit his lip and looked to his feet. He didn’t want to leave her to her emotions, he didn’t want to knowingly walk away from her while she was suffering the way she did. But that was what she wanted, so that is what he did.

He wondered, briefly, if he should visit his father before the meeting.

* * *

The meeting was long and tiring and altogether completely frustrating. But Luke was supposed to be a Jedi, and Jedi didn’t pout when important meetings went longer than originally predicted.

However, he was still a Jedi in training, so he supposed a _little_ pouting wouldn’t hurt anyone.

The small council gathered was rather divided. Leia, Calrissian, Rieekan and Dodonna were all strictly in the camp of putting Vader on trial for his crimes, even if he couldn’t remember any of them, while Luke, Mothma, Ackbar and Antilles were all for letting Vader recuperate and heal and, if possible, learn more about the Empire from its most feared villain. Luke hoped that Vader, without the memories of his horrible actions, would be more willing to cooperate with the Rebellion.

“I’ve talked to him once,” Luke mentioned to the surrounding commanders, “and I have to say that he had been very agreeable and willing to speak with me.”

“You talked _at_ him.” Dodonna commented drily. “He can’t actually _say_ anything until that vocoder is fixed and reinstalled.” He made a grimace at that.

“You should be pleased to know that the medical officer in charge of his recovery has just finished up the final touches to his vocoder.” Mothma responded immediately. “He should be almost done reinstalling it now.”

“Oh, great,” Rieekan sighed, “We can hear him lie his way out of those cuffs we put him in. Have you ever considered he could be lying?”

Luke shook his head. “With all due respect, sir, I know when I’m being lied to.”

Calrissian grunted. “Even if he can’t remember all the crimes he committed, _we_ do.” He looked to Leia, who looked away from him bitterly. “His conscience may be clean, but we still have to carry the burdens he forced on us. Where’s the justice in letting him go scotch free?”

Antilles let out a soft cry of disapproval. “We wouldn’t be letting him go!” He yelped. “He’d be a vital asset to the Rebel Alliance. We can’t just kill him, not when he could be so valuable to us.”

Mothma nodded. “Yes, I agree.” Upon Dodonna’s startled splutter, she continued. “We can use him for now.” She nodded at Ackbar, who blinked his odd fishy eyes in agreement. “When the war is over, and the Empire defeated, then we can try him for his crimes. But not now. Not when we need the information he could have.” She spared a glance at Luke, who looked uncomfortable. “Do you agree?”

He scuffled his shoes on the ground and shrugged. “I feel uncomfortable just using him as a pawn in this battle.” He bit his lip. “I believe we should grant him mercy. To see how he handles that, at the very least.” He swallowed heavily and gave the room a little smile. “It’s what I believe the Jedi would have done.”

“Luke, he _killed_ all the Jedi!” Leia exclaimed, clearly upset. “Do you think they could forgive something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Luke sighed, shaking his head, “But I must do what I can to right those wrongs.” He looked around the room, giving every person in it a sure glance. “There is still good in him, I know it. We need to work on _saving_ him, not condemning him.”

“Why should we bother saving him?” Rieekan scoffed. “He wouldn’t offer us the same kindness.”

“We aren’t him.” Calrissian’s voice shocked everyone, to say the least. He had one hand on his chin. “We could work on getting him to help us now, but once this war is over… we can put him on trial.”

Mothma nodded succinctly. “Have you changed your mind, Calrissian?”

Lando made a quiet grunt. “Yeah, I guess I have.” He looked apologetically to Leia. “Punishing him won’t bring Han back. We have to think of the whole galaxy, not just ourselves.”

Leia’s face contorted into an angry grimace before she stormed out of the conference room. Mon Mothma sighed and leaned against the communications hub in the center of the room.

“She’s always had a terrible temper.” The old Senator reminisced. “I was hoping that working with the Rebellion would help curb it. It seems to have done the opposite.”

Luke placed one hand on Mothma’s shoulder. “She needs time.” He said quietly. “Anger is a natural reaction for what she has gone through.” He nodded once more before exiting the conference room – the meeting was clearly over, and he had wanted to check in on his father to see if the vocoder was installed.

* * *

Luke opened the door to the medical center nervously. The last time he had talked to his father, the man couldn’t respond. The only words he had managed to choke out had changed the entire nature of their conversation, too – he was not looking forward to talking with this new memory-wiped Vader with the ability to talk  _back_ . But he knew it had to be done. He had rallied for his father’s recovery and rehabilitation, and he had to stick with it.

That didn’t mean he didn’t still feel a spike of cold fear upon seeing the man who had cut off his hand and tortured his friends.

Vader was sitting up in his bed. He was trying to speak with the medical officer on hand and getting used to his replacement prosthetics.

“Just try simple sounds.” Soren advised. “You don’t have to recite any long-winded, complicated speeches just yet.”

“Just the news I wanted to hear.” Vader’s vocoder seemed to work all right, although it wasn’t the deep baritone voice that Luke associated with Darth Vader. It sounded… more human, in a way.

Soren looked up from his patient and saw Luke. He brightened and stood up. “Ah, lovely. You have a visitor!”

Vader turned around to see Luke. He tilted his head in greeting. “Nice to be able to talk to you,” he stated, “My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

Luke swallowed uncomfortably and looked to Soren for help. The medical officer shrugged. “It’s best to rip off the bacta patch all at once. I was hoping you would be the one to drop this bomb.” Unfortunately, in all the rush to save Vader, Luke hadn’t realized that he and his father would be so genetically similar that Soren would figure out their relationship. Luckily, the doctor was not in the business of caring about such things all too much.

Luke stepped forward and held out a hand to shake. “My name is Luke Skywalker.”

Vader – no, _Anakin_ , laughed. The vocoder crackled a little bit, but stayed intact. “That’s funny. Weren’t you claiming to be my son?”

Luke blushed and ran a hand through his hair. _Force_ , he needed to shower.

“Well, it’s not really a joke.” He said quickly. Anakin narrowed his eyes.

“I think I’d remember having a son.” He said quietly.

Luke bit his lip and shrugged. “You wouldn’t, actually, because…” He looked to Soren with desperation in his eyes. The medical officer sighed.

“Anakin, you have severe memory loss dating back at least twenty-three years.” He moved around the bed to read the man’s vitals. “You’ve missed a lot.”

Anakin shook his head. “No – how would that even be possible?”

“Believe it or not, there are plenty of ways for that to be possible.” Soren said drily. “In your case, a whole mountain collapsed on top of you.”

Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that how I lost all my limbs?”

Luke shook his head. “No, you… you’ve had prosthetics for a long time.”

“More than _twenty years_!” Soren spat. “Twenty years and you never got them updated! You’re lucky I got to you when I did, your prosthetics were just _disgusting_.” He shook his head and returned to his work. “Stupid Clone Wars prosthetics. Advanced my _ass_.” He grumbled quietly to himself.

Anakin looked uncomfortable at that. He looked down at his right arm. He clenched his hand into a shiny metal fist and took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how I lost the others?”

Soren _hmm_ ’ed and moved around the bed to take a look at a medical form not far away. He pursed his lips and shrugged.

“It says in the initial report that only one of your stumps healed correctly, the oldest one.” Anakin nodded at that. “The others were haphazardly dealt with, and the bone and flesh were not healed correctly.” Soren made a disgusted face. “We had to cut off a bit more of your arms to try and start the healing process correctly.”

Anakin winced but nodded thankfully at the medical officer. Soren just shrugged it off. “It also says here that it is believed the other three limbs were removed at the same time. The healing process, while _totally_ kriffed, followed the same pattern on all three.” He put the form away and stared at the man in the bed. “I suppose that’s after you lost your memory, then.”

Anakin nodded. He glanced over at Luke, took a deep breath, then let it out. “What’s happened?”

Soren shook his head. “No thanks. I’m just here to heal your body. You wanna talk about our kriffed up galaxy? Talk to your kid.” He scoffed and walked out of the room. “Luke, just comm me if anything goes wrong.”

Just like that, Luke and Anakin were left alone in the same room.

Luke looked down at his feet. Anakin looked up at the ceiling. There was a tense silence between them for a good few minutes.

“I’d be whistling if I could.” Anakin broke the silence, still looking at the ceiling. “This vocoder doesn’t really translate well.”

“I could take a look at it,” Luke said before he even processed the idea in his head, “I can see if there’s anything I can do to make it more… human.”

Anakin chuckled. “No, I’m used to working on machines. This won’t be any different.” He eyed Luke again and tried to smile with his eyes. “I could probably make a better vocoder from scratch, honestly. This one’s shit.”

Luke tried not to scoff. Anakin was a lot cheekier than Vader. “Have you ever tried making a vocoder before?”

Anakin laughed this time – and it wasn’t a dark, foreboding laugh, it wasn’t a pained chuckle, it was a strange, amused _thing_ – and nodded. “Not for organics, though.” He shook his head. “I built one for my droid.”

Luke raised a brow. “You built a droid?”

“Yeah, I did.” Anakin answered, oddly defensive. “I built him when I was a kid, to help around the house.” He furrowed his hairless brow. “I gave him to Senator Amidala when I became a Jedi.” He said this carefully, as if that wasn’t all there was to it. When Luke still looked dubious, he crossed his arms over his chest. “His name was C-3PO! I’m sure you’ll be able to find _some_ record of him.”

Luke’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “C-3PO?” He asked. “Are you sure?”

Anakin snorted, but it was clear to Luke that the action hurt him. “I better be, otherwise my memory’s even worse than the doctor said it was.”

Luke grabbed his personal comm unit and pinged the good doctor. Soren’s annoyed voice quickly responded.   
“What do you want? It hasn’t even been ten minutes.”

Luke swallowed heavily and glanced at his father once. Anakin was staring at him with a confused, odd expression on his face. “Can you grab C-3PO and bring him in here?”

Soren groaned. “What do you want that blasted protocol droid for?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Ugh, fine. I’ll go find him. Want anything else?” He asked sarcastically. “Caf, maybe?”

Luke chuckled and shook his head, even though the medical officer couldn’t see him. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Anakin looked shocked. “You mean Threepio’s still around?”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. You could be wrong, you know.”

Anakin shook his head. “I doubt it.”

There was more silence. The conversation seemed to have found its end there, since the father and son clearly were trying to avoid the greater krayt dragon in the room.

“Who was Senator Amidala?”

“Was?” Anakin’s voice quivered.

Luke shrugged. “Yeah, the Senate was dissolved a couple of years ago.” He cleared his throat. “Leia said that it wasn’t even really a Senate at that point, since the Emperor just does what he wants.”

“Emperor?” Anakin frowned. “There wasn’t an Emperor in the Senate.”

“Yeah, well, now there’s no Senate.” Luke sighed. “I don’t really know how that works. I grew up on Tatooine, schooling there wasn’t focused on politics and history.”

Anakin grimaced. “Tatooine?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I was… taken, I guess, after I was born.”

Luke could feel a sharp pang of disgust and fear spike through his father. He frowned. “What?”

“I lived on Tatooine, too.” He said hesitantly. “You… you weren’t a – “

The young Jedi paled as he realized what his father was trying to ask. “No, I wasn’t. I was raised by my aunt Beru and uncle Lars.”

He felt a strange mix of guilt and confusion, then. “How did _that_ happen?” _Why didn’t I raise you?_ Was the unasked question, but Luke didn’t want to answer.

“I don’t know. Obi-Wan told me it was necessary.”

“ _Obi-Wan?!_ ” Anakin lurched forward. “How did _he_ know?”

Luke looked helpless. “Listen, I’m still really new to this whole you-being-my-father thing! I don’t _know_ anything!” He snapped. “Maybe if you hadn’t _killed him_ he would have been a little more _forthcoming_ about the situation!”

Anakin froze. Luke felt waves of shock and pain and fear rolling off of the older man. “What… did you say?”

He stood straight-backed and bit his lower lip. He shouldn’t have exploded like that, but really, he was more than a little overwhelmed and sleep-deprived and altogether _done_ with this confusing, painful conversation.

“I – “ He struggled to find the right words. “You – weren’t a – Obi-Wan called you a Sith.” He mumbled. “He said you killed my father, and the rest of the Jedi, because you turned to the Dark Side.”

Anakin was silent. Luke could feel the hurt of what he had just said radiate throughout the room. “The first time I met you was when you killed him.”

The door opened, and Soren pushed the annoying golden protocol droid into the room. “Here, you can have him.” He growled before the door closed shut again.

“Oh, dear.” Threepio took one look at the situation and began to worry. “Luke and Lord Vader, apologies for the intrusion, but that medical officer just seemed so intent on getting me over here!”

Luke sighed and ran one hand through his hair. “It’s fine, Threepio. I… I don’t think we should be talking about that stuff right now, anyways.”

Anakin was still silent. That was strange, now, because Luke had kind of gotten used to the talkative side of his father. He still felt the pang of recognition, even if it wasn’t accompanied by any other action.

“Um, Threepio, do you recognize the name Anakin Skywalker?”

“Not particularly, no.” The droid sounded unsure. “Why do you ask?”

“You don’t remember your old friend?” Anakin asked quietly. “Come here, Threepio. Let me see what they did to you.”

Threepio looked to Luke, who nodded encouragingly, then shuffled towards Anakin. “Hello, I am See-Threepio, I specialize in human-cyborg relations. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication.”

Anakin smiled again, but the action didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know, buddy.” He sat up and left some room at the foot of his bed for Threepio to sit. “I just want to take a look in your memory banks, is all.”

Threepio sat down shakily. “Please do be careful, sir.” He said cautiously. “I should be afraid to see what would happen if you were to mess up something in my delicate wiring – oh!” He exclaimed as Anakin popped off the back of his head. “Oh, dear.”

Anakin huffed. “You’re filthy back here. When was the last time you’ve had an oil bath?”

Threepio let out a startled sound. “Oh, sir, I’ve been asking for _ages_! No one has the time for an old protocol droid like myself, it seems.” He said as he shook his metal head, much to Anakin’s annoyance.

“When I’m feeling better, I’ll see what I can do for you. Have they been keeping you updated?”

Luke felt weird. Anakin was fiddling with wires and toggles and all kinds of delicate machinery that he didn’t _quite_ understand. He had been teasing his father about his ability to build droids, but it was clear the man had the skill and capability to do just that.

“Oh, here we go.” Anakin said after a few minutes of quietly working through the droid’s head. “ _Force_ , they wiped you clean.”

“Wiping a droid’s memory is imperative to well-functioning behavior!” Threepio supplied.

Anakin shook his head. “There’s _nothing_ past this. Do you even know who your creator was?”

Threepio shook his head again. “I suppose I don’t.” He sighed. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

Anakin put Threepio’s head back together and sat back. He looked… defeated. “I guess not.” He cleared his throat (and Luke did not miss the very clear wince in pain, both physically and with the Force) and placed his hands over his lap. “It might be… better for you, not to know.”

Threepio stood up again and turned around to face Anakin. “It was nice to meet you, sir, but if I may…” He turned to Luke. “Master Luke, may I go recharge? Artoo _always_ takes my favorite spot at the charging station and I just _can’t_ let him get it this time.”

Luke looked to his father, who had another pang of recognition upon hearing Artoo’s name. It shouldn’t have surprised him all that much. Threepio and Artoo were practically connected at the hip for the most part, and Artoo was a pretty old unit already. He nodded to Threepio. “You can go. Tell Artoo to come by some time, too.”

“Very well,” Threepio said, “Although I don’t know what you’d want with that dirty droid coming in here and mucking up the place.” He grumbled in his loud voice even after he left the room.

That, once again, left Luke and Anakin to themselves.

“You’re definitely not pulling a fast one on me, right?” Anakin asked after another tense silence.

Luke shook his head. “I wish.”

The older man sighed and looked to his lap. “Can you tell me what you _do_ know?”

“It’s not a lot,” Luke warned, “I’m just fighting for the Rebellion. If you want details, you’d have to ask Mon Mothma for those.”

Anakin nodded. “I know. I just feel like I should have the basics covered first, right?”

There was something so painfully _young_ in the way he spoke; Luke felt a pang of regret for not being able to know his father as this man.

“About twenty years ago, Emperor Palpatine took over the Senate and turned the old Republic into the Empire.” Luke pretended not to notice the flare of recognition, surprise, and betrayal upon hearing this. “The Jedi Order was destroyed, hunted down and killed by Darth Vader and his Inquisitors.” Anakin opened his mouth, but Luke shook his head and Anakin closed it again. It was best to treat Vader like a third entity. It was almost hard to believe the two people were one and the same. “Emperor Palpatine hasn’t had the galaxy’s best interests in mind.” He sighed. “He built this – this _thing_ , called the Death Star, and it was… horrible.” Luke’s voice took on a hollow tone. “I first met Darth Vader there.” It was unspoken that that was where Obi-Wan Kenobi met his fate. “The Death Star wasn’t like any other ship. It was capable of destroying entire planets in a single blast.” Luke closed his eyes and shivered. “I hadn’t been trained yet, but even I could feel the pain of all those lives being snuffed out at once.”

Anakin stared at his son, horror slowly dawning on his face.

Luke offered a halfhearted shrug in response. “I destroyed the Death Star. I knew I should have been glad to destroy it, but all of those lives onboard…” He shook his head. “It was Alderaan all over again.”

“Is there any part of this where something _good_ happens?” Anakin asked, not quite jokingly. Luke smiled sadly.

“I made some friends, like Leia and Han,” Luke let the sadness and guilt build up before he let out a breath, releasing the negative energy along with his breath, “I started more official training. Then we met again.” Luke held up his robotic arm. “Han was… _compromised_ , and you did _this_.”

Anakin’s eyes were wide with shock. “ _I_ did that?” At Luke’s nod, he lunged forward as fast as he could to sit up. “ _Why would I do that?_ ”

“You wanted to take over the galaxy with me. Kill the Emperor, rule everything. I said no.” Luke blushed. “That was a month ago.”

Anakin shook his head in disbelief. “Ruling an entire galaxy?” He breathed. “Sure, I wasn’t exactly happy with the Republic, but that’s a long way from being Emperor.” He looked up to Luke. “Did I ever tell you why I wanted that? Why I went Darkside?”

Luke shook his head. “No, those two meetings were pretty much the extent of our relationship. There was that one time on Vrogas Vas, though, before I knew who you were.” He swallowed heavily. “I guess you knew I was your son even then.”

Anakin was clearly struggling with the next question he wanted to ask. Luke put one hand on the bed and looked into his father’s eyes.

“Like I said, I’m not the best person to ask for history lessons.” He smiled softly… _sadly_. “I can ask around, see if anyone else would be willing to talk to you about this.”

“Can you be there too?” Anakin blurted out. “When they tell me about the rest. My history is yours, too.” He shook his head. “ _History_. I was just in the middle of a war.”

“Well, you’re in the middle of a completely different one now.” Luke and Anakin both turned around to see Mon Mothma standing at the door. Neither of them had noticed it open. “We can’t give away Rebellion secrets, but I can tell you about what happened between the Clone Wars and… _this_.” She said, quiet but authoritative.

“I would appreciate that, Senator – err.” Anakin stumbled for a moment, then looked to Luke helplessly.

“Mon Mothma is fine for now.” She said. “We generally don’t have time for honorifics here. Not anymore.”

She looked at Luke. “I need to discuss certain issues with your father. If you’d like to stay, you can, but know you can’t repeat this to anyone outside of this room.”

Luke glanced over to Anakin, who blinked nervously at him. At that moment, Luke realized that his own father was… the same age as him. He looked back to Mon Mothma. “I’d like to stay here, then.” He pulled over a nearby chair and sat at Anakin’s side.

He couldn’t help but notice his father’s grateful gaze as he sat down. He _also_ couldn’t help but notice Mothma’s knowing glint as she began to speak.

He hoped that he had made the right choice.

* * *

Soren discharged Anakin from the medical center a month after he was admitted into it. He still required the vocoder, still needed a respirator, but almost all of the suit had been taken off of him. His prosthetics were well-calibrated ( _perfectly_ calibrated, he would say, since he did them himself), and his vocoder’s voice was as close to _his_ as it could be. That had taken up the majority of the month, but he was glad when it was finished. His skin, horribly scarred and pale as a sheet from being locked up in a dark suit for twenty years, slowly returned to darker shades, if only slightly.

Even if it wasn’t the body he _used_ to have, it was definitely better than Darth Vader’s suit of pain. It was still difficult to walk on prosthetic legs, and he couldn’t walk for very long periods of time, but he was getting better with every rotation.

As soon as he was let out of the medical bay, he found some unused robes that vaguely looked like they would fit him and shrugged those on. He was _tired_ of the medical scrubs. And yeah, the robes he had found were nowhere near as comfortable as his old Jedi robes, but apparently those had been gone for decades, now. He’d have to make do with what he had.

Luke was with him most of the way. He found it odd, to suddenly have a son the same age as himself. He had missed out on his son’s entire life, apparently, and nothing could really curb that painful edge of hurt when he thought about it for too long.

However, Luke had been kind to him for nearly his entire recovery – the first couple of days after he lost his memory notwithstanding. He supposed that even if he hadn’t been integral in his son’s life, the fact that he grew into such a sweet, loving person despite spending more time on Tatooine than Anakin himself was enough to make him proud.

It was weird, feeling proud of a boy the same age as himself. Although technically, he was _really_ forty-five. His _body_ certainly felt that way, but his mind would still forget.

It seemed there were other parts of him that hadn’t _quite_ forgotten everything, though. He had nightmares. Horrible, _disgusting_ nightmares. Padawans staring up at him in horror, other Jedi falling beneath his red blade, Padmé’s tearful pleading to _come back, Anakin, you’re going down a path that I cannot follow_ –

And _always_ of the hate.

In his dreams, it wrapped itself around his heart and burned him up. He could see the last remnants of the Jedi dying beneath him and felt powerful. He felt hot anger as an officer disobeyed an order. He felt chilling satisfaction when the officer’s neck snapped through the Force. He felt _rage_ , he felt _pain_ , and he woke up screaming most nights.

He never quite remembered those dreams. He knew what they were, of course, which is why he forced them out of his head.

It was clear that what he had done, what he had _felt_ , had made him turn (well, that and Palpatine’s influence, which, upon revelation, had completely shattered Anakin’s world for a solid week in the medbay). He was given a chance to redeem himself for those horrible memories he couldn’t quite grasp, and he was going to take it.

The Rebellion knew who he was. It was hard to keep something like that a secret for very long.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, there were many people in the Rebellion who were not taking that well. Many had threatened to leave if they let Vader – for they did not respect him as Anakin – roam free. To such complaints, Mothma was hard-pressed to find a response. Anakin offered to step forward and speak to the Rebellion as a whole, but Mothma and Luke – who were pretty much all of his impulse control – refused to let him. It was too risky, so soon after his recovery.

The Rebellion was full of people who had suffered directly at his own hands, and even if Anakin couldn’t remember what he did, there many beings would never forget.

That was why, a week after he had left the medbay, he snuck out in the middle of the night-rotation to the communications center.

Not many people were up at that particular hour. There were guards, sure, but Anakin was a _Jedi_. His muscles may have been stiff, his prosthetic limbs still painful, but he was more than capable of sneaking around some dark base in the middle of the night.

He reached the comm station quickly and without much drama of any kind. He grabbed the Rebellion-issued toolkit Luke had given him to tune up his prosthetics and fiddled around with the inner workings of the specific comm system he had picked. If all went according to plan (which it rarely did, but _still_ ), he would be able to send a message out to those in the Rebellion who hated him without endangering himself too much.

He pressed record and began his speech.

He hoped he wouldn’t get into _too_ much trouble for this.

* * *

It was in the middle of the day’s rotation when Anakin’s message was released. Droids on off-duty projected a holo of him, his hairless scalp, his bright, hopeful eyes, his unassuming respirator and vocoder, and a cautious smile on his face.

Almost everyone on base stopped what they were doing simultaneously. Those that didn’t were too busy actually _running_ the Rebellion, thank you very much.

“Uh, hi,” Anakin began awkwardly, “A lot of you know me as Darth Vader.” He reached one hand up to run a hand through his hair, then stopped as he remembered he had no hair to touch. The hand fell down to his lap. “I did horrible things as Darth Vader. Things that should never be forgiven. I know.” He shook his head, the awkward hope disappearing for a quick moment, replaced with deep sadness. “I _know_.” He tried to smile again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, I wanted to apologize for it all. Every single life I took, ever single being I hurt – I _am_ sorry.” He sighed. “I don’t remember any of it. I remember being General Anakin Skywalker in the Clone Wars. I don’t know much about the Empire, or the state of the galaxy, but I know it’s not good. And I know I’m a big part of the reason for that.”

He looked down. “I’m sorry for that, too.” He looked back up, his eyes filled with determination. “But I want to make that right. I want to be Anakin Skywalker. I may not remember important Imperial secrets, but I _am_ a Jedi.” He blinked once. “I vow to you, the people of the Rebellion, that I will spend the rest of my life working to undo the damage I have done.”

He paused then. A small, genuine smile appeared on his face. “So please, don’t try to assassinate me. I have too much work to do.”

With that, the message cut. All the watchers stood still, not sure what to think.

Luke, who had been eating in the galley, had nearly had a heart attack. His father wasn’t _that_ stupid, was he?

Then again, he _was_ Luke’s father.

The young Jedi pushed out of his seat and all but ran to the comm center. He was surrounded by confused, hectic technicians, but there was no sign of Anakin anywhere.

He felt a slight tremor of amusement from the Force, coming all the way from Anakin’s room.

Of _course_.

Luke dashed to his father’s room and opened the door. Anakin sat on the ground peacefully, his legs crossed and eyes closed.

“What in the Force’s name was that about?” Luke exclaimed.

“I wanted to say something to the entire Rebellion.” Anakin said simply. “So I did.”

“I cannot _believe_ you – you – did something like _this_!” Luke was almost seething. “Do you think people will trust you if if they think you can create messages like this whenever you want?”

Anakin shrugged. “It was a one-time thing. I’m sure security will be tighter from now on anyways.”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. He pushed his growing anger out into the Force.

“Do you think it will work?” He asked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see. Obi-Wan always was better with words.” Anakin gestured to his door. “I suspect I’ll have more than a few unhappy customers in a few minutes. You’re welcome to stay and watch the show.”

Luke shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Anakin smiled.

* * *

Anakin had been right. There were definitely _more than a few_ unhappy customers.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I want to continue this, though. I don't know quite where I'd take it. I have some vague ideas, but nothing solid.   
> Oh well. I hope you liked it!


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